(So sorry this took so long! I seriously had no time. Promise I'll update faster next the beginning of this chappie may seem cliche, but don't worry it gets better by the end. And for all those of you who think I'm just making Arthur's story the same as Cobb's...I'm not. Their loves are using similar dialogue lines because I wanted to incorporate as much as the original movie dialogue in this story as possible (thus the title). Also; I shamelessly stole Arthur's situation from another Joseph Gordon Levitt (actor who plays Arthur) movie called, 'The Lookout.' So his and Cobb's stories are different. Maybe go watching the trailer for 'The Lookout,' before reading this chapter would be a good idea... Here's the link; .com/watch%3Fv%3DRFKRYBgjaYE
(BTW: I didn't watch the movie, only the trailer and it looked really good)
Chapter 3
Arthur coughed and sputtered, his lungs full of water. He was being beaten against a shore, his clothes weighing him down. The trench coat continuously dragged him back into the current, and his large automatic rifle banged clumsily against his side. It took a few moments for him to understand what was happening, because he was being tossed like a cork on the ocean.
There was a beach, he realized. And he was being pulled, back and forth, through the waves. Getting a hold of himself, he managed to drag his body through the water, which tasted crystal clear despite being from the ocean. After much struggle and coughing, he managed to land on the beach.
His ruined hair was mopping in front of his eyes, and as he pushed it aside, grumbling, he took in the scenery. There was a vast expanse of decaying city yawning before him.
"So this is limbo," he muttered, silently thinking that it didn't look like a very pleasant place, and that he was going to kick Ariadne's ass for stabbing him unexpectedly with a random object. Twice. He looked left and right for her, but she wasn't there. Too bad he hadn't got a chance to converse with her; she'd already been here, and she understood Cobb and his experience. Arthur was shooting in the dark.
He waited for her for a while, then decided to keep moving, discarding the water logged trench coat and the now useless gun. A small pistol was still stored in his belt; a water-proof weapon.
The streets of limbo were hauntingly familiar. He saw fifth avenue, from New York, and a local street in Paris. Cobb's apartment. His favorite sandwich shop.
"This place is entirely built from memory," he muttered, wondering just how far the expanse of recreated city stretched. It was all in decay, paint peeling, shutters falling, windows broken; but it was recognizable, nonetheless.
He was tempted to search Cobb's apartment to go look for him, but he wanted to wait for Ariadne. She probably knew where he was already. After wandering the maze for nearly half and hour, he began to shout her name; but the word echoed throughout the empty streets and returned to him.
"Ariadne! Ariadne?-!"
The house was old, and abandoned. She felt as if the floor would give way any moment under the pressure of her weight, and cast her down into the water beneath the foundation.
Curiosity killed the cat, they say, but for Ariadne, curiosity was her fuel. She could never leave well enough alone.
She searched all the rooms, but none of them yielded success until she reached a brightly colored child's room.
It gave her chills to see it. The drapery had flowery patterns, the walls were a bright color, and the bed had a princess canopy above it; but the curtain rod had long since fallen on one side, the wall paint was flaking, and there was dust everywhere.
A child's room, once full of gaiety and laughter, long abandoned and forgotten. The room almost seemed lonely, like it missed its master.
She made her way through the cobwebs and opened the dollhouse. The safe opened without a further attempt, and its contents shocked Ariadne.
There, there was Mal's-and Cobb's- totem. In two pieces.
The division between reality and a dream had disentigrated.
"Caught by his own trap," murmured Ariadne, who stepped forward to take a closer look. She failed to notice the broken shards of glass from where the fallen curtain rod had shattered the window.
As she stepped on a piece, there was a resounding twang of breaking glass, and she froze in her steps.
"How could you ever understand?"
Ariadne nearly jumped out of her skin when heard the voice. Shakily, she turned and saw the figure of Mal in the bedroom.
The dead woman walked closer towards her and held Ariadne's chin in her hand. This was not Arthur's touch, cool and reassuring. In fact, this wasn't a touch at all. She placed her hand there, but there was no warmth or even coldness. She was just a ghost, a figment of her imagination.
"Do you know what it's like to be a lover?"
Ariadne remembered the first time Mal had said these words. She'd remembered, with pain, a haunting memory, and buried it deeper. Buried the hurt. Buried the tears.
Buried the truth she'd once known, but had chosen to forget.
"Do you know what it's like to be half of a whole?"
A hesitant tear rolled down Ariadne's cheek. She tried to whisper, but her voice was barely audible.
"N-no. I don't, Mal."
She tried not to think of Arthur.
Who was this madwoman, that she could open these wounds that had long since healed? These cuts that had closed but left a scar on her heart?
How could Mal ever know these words would hurt her?
Ariadne gave in and let herself think of Arthur for a brief second; then everything broke loose.
It was only a dream that he'd ever felt for her. Literally. Yes, there had been that time in the workshop, that kiss in the hotel, but it was nothing. She prayed it was nothing.
She didn't want to hurt Arthur, to twist his heart and rip it in two. Surely, that was what she would do given the chance.
Oh, how Mal could hurt her so!
She sobbed and fell to her knees. Now she never wanted to see Arthur again, to bear the shame of seeing a man so perfect.
Or rather...seeing a man with problems. Problems she'd surely make worse.
Mal seemed to tower over her, and she shifted her hand from Ariadne's chin to her neck, causing her to choke.
"You didn't let yourself even hope he could love you, child?"
She gagged and gasped.
"S-Stop. You're my subconscious...shouldn't you treat me kindly?"
Yes, it was clear now. Mal knew her fears, her weaknesses...because she was a part of her. A projection of her subconscious.
Mal laughed, but her laugh changed slowly over time. It became deeper, and more powerful.
Suddenly Ariadne realized with terror that it was no longer Mal grasping her neck, but...him. Austin.
"You pathetic human being. You think anybody could love you, once they know what you've done?"
"S-stop-"
"Don't waste your breath child. You chose me and you have to deal with the consequences."
"I didn't choose this-"
"Oh, yes you did. Don't try to fake it. You chose me."
"But this isn't what I wanted..."
"Perhaps. But you don't know what it is child, to be a true lover. To be one half a whole. That whole has always been you, you, you. And now there's just a hole in your soul. A hole that can never be filled."
"It can be. I know that now."
"You hoped that. You hoped it could be filled. But you were wrong. Even now you are uncertain of your words."
"Stop! I don't have to take this from you! You're not real!" she choked.
"Am I, now?" he asked.
He let go of her and she fell to the floor, gagging and rubbing her neck, trying to breathe.
He chuckled softly as he knelt to meet her eyes.
"This look familiar, child?"
Ariadne's eyes widened in rage when she saw his new form.
"How dare you! How-how can you take something so precious to me..."
"Don't bother. Tell me, how does it feel to stab the one you love in the heart? Twice?"
She wanted to throttle him, but he'd only sidestep. For he'd taken on the shape of Arthur.
"You gonna betray me again, princess? Hide secrets from me when I told you everything? Stab me with a rusty blade?"
She fumed silently and tried to conceal her rage from her own subconscious.
Inside she didn't understand. Only a little while ago, her subconscious had told her, in a dream, that Arthur could fill the void. That he was the answer she sought.
But now, it taunted her and teased her, again appearing in the form of Arthur but mocking her.
The projection answered her internal question, for he was a part of her.
"He can fill the hole alright, and make you whole again. But you'll tear him out, you'll break his heart, you'll kill him, even if he was attracted to you-"
"Stop!" she screamed with venom and hate, putting her hands to her ears."I won't listen to you anymore!"
The man simply smiled, returning to his original form and losing the shape of Arthur.
He reached into her pocket and retrieved the silver knight.
"Give me that!" she said, but he put it out of her reach.
"Just how real am I, Ariadne?"
"Give it to me!"
"No."
She'd had enough of this. She couldn't let him torture her as Mal tortured Cobb. It's so much easier to give advice when you're not the one making decisions.
She drew the pistol from her back pocket and fired immediately, then stared in shock when the figure just laughed.
She didn't see that the gun wasn't loaded at all. She just saw her subconscious very much alive, and assumed it had survived gunfire.
"Wha...how-"
"Just remember Ariadne," he said viciously as he closed a fist around the silver knight,
"You'll never be half a whole. You just will have a hole in your heart. And if you ever try to fill that hole...with him," he said with a sneer, showing her the silver knight in shining armor, "then this will happen."
She screamed as he clenched his fist and the totem crumbled into dust. And then he was gone.
...
Arthur remembered the accident with astounding clarity. But he didn't ever mention it to anyone.
"Mother?" he asked in disbelief.
She sat in a bathrobe at the kitchen table, sighing with a mug of coffee in her hand.
"When are you going to get married, Arthur?"
He narrowed his eyes, disbelieving her presence.
"Mother..."
"Katherine has been such a good girl, waiting all these years...don't lead her on, child. Just marry her. You do love her, don't you?"
At that point Arthur almost had a seizure. Why? Why did his mother have to be cruel like this, and open wounds which had long since healed, but left a scar? She may have lost her sanity, but to bring this up again...After he'd worked so hard to squelch his feelings, to be calm and cool and suave...
"Mother..." he mumbled with a lump in his throat..."You know Katherine is..."
"Waiting?"
"No..."
She stood up and brushed his cheek with her hand.
"You really are mean, Arthur, making her wait so long."
He felt the place where the ring once graced his finger, and to his surprise, found it there.
"What the hell..." he mumbled, and his mother made a tsking noise.
"Poor girl..."
Her voice faded softly into the night. Arthur awoke to the sound of waves.
He'd had an in-limbo dream.
"Fascinating," he murmured, but his voice was choked with emotion. Oh no. No, no no, not down here, not when Ariadne was there, not when his mind was so vulnerable, in raw subconscious...
Arthur couldn't help it. He leaned over and he cried.
Everything he'd worked to build up over the past few years; that smooth composure which registered no emotion, except for the occasional burst of anger...gone. His heart had long since grown a hard shell around it, but the shell had cracked.
He saw her walking down the beach and tried to shake the memory away, but was no longer in control. This was what happened to Cobb, not him...letting petty emotion control the environment, and influence the subconscious.
How many times had Arthur burned sheets of paper with her name on it, trying to deaden his feelings, to kill his emotion towards her?
He stiffened as she sat beside him on the beach.
"Hello, darling."
He didn't answer.
"What's the matter, bad night?" she said sweetly, running her fingers through his destroyed hair. What he wouldn't do for some gel.
He looked into the sparkling blue eyes and sighed.
These eyes; these beautiful blue eyes were the key to his past. A past that was gone and would never come back. They were the memory he'd locked inside, the truth he'd once known but chosen to forget.
He had to forget this truth. Because if he remembered, he lost all control, and furthermore longed for a past that no longer existed.
And there was no use crying over spilt milk.
He looked away. No, he would not be sucked in as Cobb was. She could not, would not, rule his thoughts, disrupt his jobs, endanger other people's lives.
"When are you going to marry me, Arthur? Are you just too shy to propose?" she asked playfully, but cautiously, with a hint of nervousness in her voice.
He turned to face her, and tried not to think lovingly of her eyes.
"Leave me. Please."
She opened her mouth in slow shock, disbelieving of his words.
"But...Arthur!"
"You don't exist anymore."
"I do exist, I'm right here, aren't-"
"You're dead."
She was silent, and tears spilled over her cheeks.
"I'm not dead to you."
He bit his lip. He couldn't lose it, he had to keep that same control he'd kept for the past seven years or he'd go crazy, back to the state he was in when Cobb first found him. And worst of all...
He'd endanger Ariadne.
"You traitor."
He looked at her with half hearted interest.
"I don't feel anything for her," he lied, but the projection smiled and put a hand on his.
"Yes. You don't love her, you love me," she purred.
"No, no I don't. Katherine...you're dead to me too, you-"
"You're lying and you know it."
He couldn't parry her remark, because she was right.
He'd tried to kill her off, but she always was there. He'd done a good job of forgetting her for a while, but now she was fully back in his consciousness.
For a long time there was nothing except the sound of the waves.
After a while she made a clear statement:
"It doesn't have to be this way, Arthur."
Suddenly he heard creaking and groaning behind him. When he turned around, there was an old Double T Diner with two drive thrus on either side.
He immediately turned back to face the shores of limbo again.
"No, Katherin-"
"Katy, Arthur, Katy! Look, don't you see? We can be the way we were, we can still be together..."
He tried to drown out her words but it was impossible.
"We can forget the accident. You still can love, love me, like you used to, you can be emotional again. You won't need a pad of paper to write everything down, you won't have to contain your feelings anymore...and we can be so happy together, Arthur, the way we were before..."
No, he'd spent too long burying these truths to suddenly unearth them-
"You blame yourself for my death but it wasn't really your fault. You can't blame yourself for the falling car. But even if it was your fault, you can still make amends. Choose me!"
No, no...
"All your life you've regretted that you never married me. But now you can. You can stay, right here, in a world we'll build togeth-"
BLAM!
Arthur turned around sharply.
"Katherine? Katherine!"
His heart plummeted when he saw her lying on the sand. This was the second time he'd seen her dead, helpless, on the ground.
"Katy..."
He put a hand to his mouth. Control, control! He was going insane. Like he had before. Before Cobb found him.
He tried to touch her but two neat tennis shoes stepped in the way.
The small figure towered over him with no compassion.
"She's dead, Arthur. No use crying over spilt milk. She's been dead, and she'll stay dead."
He was too shaken up to understand that this was out of character for Ariadne. She seemed cold, and bitter. That wasn't the architect he knew.
He rocked back and forth, silently, trying to cram all his emotions back in that little box, behind closed doors, and lock them away.
"Emotions are no good Arthur," she murmured, leaning down to meet him.
"You're right. I have- I have to-"
"Hide everything? Yes. Do that. Or your emotions will endanger us all. Forget her, and forget you ever loved her."
Arthur squinted. He said nothing, listening to the waves, and something surfaced in him which he'd always had, since the day he was born;
Suspicion.
He remembered something, now, something Cobb had said long, long ago;
that when the suconscious was conflicted, the projections would sometimes disagree with each other, often presenting different sides of an issue.
And they could be very bipolar projections.
He stared at Ariadne for a moment. Nothing seemed different about her, not at first. She had on the same clothes she'd been wearing the whole trip. A scarf, some jeans, and two neat tennis shoes.
"What about you, Ariadne?" he asked testily.
She looked at him silently for a moment.
"What about me?"
"How can I feel about you?"
She stared at him silently, the moonlight reflecting off ribbons of her hair. Every minute detail was perfect.
The power of the subconscious is amazing.
As she laced her tiny fingers through his hair, he whispered silently in her ear;
"Do you love me?"
Before she could reply, he withdrew his pistol from his belt and shot her, point blank, in the heart.
...
Ariadne had lain on the floor in dreamless sleep. Night had fallen long since, but crying and afraid of what may appear, she'd just sat on the floor till she'd drifted off.
At the sound of two steps on creaky floorboards, she instantly awoke.
"Ariadne?"
Arthur would normally have been more concerned about her being on the ground, but he had to be cautious. Although he'd shot a projection of her, one couldn't be too careful. He'd shot Katherine before, but she hadn't died. For all he knew, this Ariadne was just another projection.
"Get away from me," Ariadne hissed, trying to sound brave but inwardly cowering. Arthur did not respond for a moment, carefully analyzing her behavior.
She cautiously looked up and said,
"Don't try to take his shape. I know it's you!"
He cocked his head to one side and said calmly,
"I heard a scream so I went looking for you. What is this place?"
She still did not trust his words, and remained motionless.
Arthur's analytic eyes ran over her body. He watched her antics with questioning, then nodded his head in confirmation. He was silent for a moment, and then said softly, but clearly,
"I see you ran into a projection of me."
She turned to face him with a hard coldness he'd never seen before in her eyes.
"And how do you know that?"
"Because I ran into a projection of you," he replied.
The words troubled her, and startled her a little bit as well.
She decided this was really Arthur. He sounded like Arthur, and didn't try to woo her or taunt her, unlike her conflicted subconscious projections of him.
But he had run into a projection...of her? Why her?
"What did you do to her?" she asked quietly.
He answered without hesitation.
"I shot her."
She cringed inwardly, regretting, always regretting.
"Arthur...I'm so sorry, I didn't want to-"
"I was going to kick your ass for that. But it's alright. You had to. Though...you couldn't have done it a little less painfully?"
She smiled, relaxing a bit as she sat up. Yes, this was good old Arthur.
"It isn't more elegant than shooting you in the head?"
"Frankly, no," he smirked.
They laughed a little, softly, for a moment, then were silent. It was eerie in the house, and both felt an increasing discomfort with their surroundings. Arthur stood up and turned the lamp on, filling the room with a dim light.
"Did you find Cobb?" he asked her. She shook her head.
"No. But I know now...he's lost track of reality. He's lost his grasp on it."
"How do you know?"
She pointed, numbly, to the partially opened safe. He stepped towards it, being careful not to step on the glass. Ariadne slumped a little, thinking of Arthur's careful mind and how knew better than to step on the shattered shards, unlike her.
He opened the safe and said nothing for a moment.
"Mal's totem?" he asked, after a bit of silence.
There was always a silence after Arthur saw something happen. He needed time to analyze, to observe.
"Not just Mal's," she murmured.
He turned around, brow wrinkled in question.
"What do you mean?"
Ariadne blinked for a moment.
"You didn't know? That's Cobb's totem too. He used it after she died."
He shook his head and shut the safe.
"Damn," he muttered.
She looked up inquisitively.
"You were right...Cobb spent a lot of time doing things he said not to do..."
Arthur smiled grimly for a second, and had a far away look on his face.
"Yes, Cobb had a habit of that. That's why he was the best. He was never afraid to take risks, to try something new, but he was smart about it, unlike that British idiot."
He shook his head and sighed, the smile fading.
"But not all gambles turn out for the better, I suppose. Especially when it's your own mind you're gambling. To use somebody else's totem...especially Mal's..."
He shook his head again.
"It's not a wonder it doesn't work. She knew its secret. And now that she's a part of him..."
He sat down on a rickety old chair and folded his hands. He stayed there for nearly a minute, with his eyes closed, thinking. Ariadne, to her own shame, couldn't really focus on Cobb but instead ran her eyes over every part of Arthur.
She had never really had an opportunity to do so. The Point Man was always watching, always looking, always observing. Whenever she tried to watch him, on a bus or on the plane or in the workshop, he would always make eye contact and she'd be forced to look away. He was always keeping tabs on everything, including her.
But now his eyes were closed, and she was free for a short moment to observe him.
His hair was damp and strands of it were mopped in front of his eyes. His vest looked a bit stained from the water, but his tie remained in place and he still looked sharp.
Arthur had such a nice face, she noted.
His eyes finally opened, slowly, and Ariadne stared into their darkness.
"I think we should go back," he said solemnly. Ariande furrowed her eyebrows, confused.
"But what about Cobb?"
He shook his head.
"Even if we could find him, he's probably having a heyday with Mal. And now that his now that limbo is his reality...he won't want to leave her."
Ariadne shook her head.
"Limbo isn't his reality. If it were, the totem would be on its side. You do know how the totem works..."
Arthur nodded. "He told me after she died."
"The totem is split in half. I think that means he just can't tell the difference..."
She gulped as she thought of her own totem, which now lay in crumbled pieces. She had no idea what to make of that.
"And Mal..." she muttered silently, "is dead."
Arthur closed his eyes and tried not to think of Katherine as he murmured, "Not to Cobb, she isn't."
Ariadne inhaled slowly and nodded, heart pounding.
"Look...Arthur, I think it's time I told you... about Cobb."
He faced her curiously, with an unreadable expression in his eyes.
"So now you're going to tell me?"
She looked at the floor in guilt.
"There wasn't time," she said uncertainly. "By the time I knew anything concrete about him, it was time for the job. And when I went deeper with him in the levels...well, I found out more."
He didn't respond. She took his silence as an opportunity and hastily recounted the story of Cobb, and how he was responsible for the idea that killed his wife. How his guilt had defined her, and finally how the gunshot had killed her. She was now dead, even to Cobb. He lived for his children now...or so Ariadne hoped.
Arthur leaned back in the chair and nodded silently, digesting what he had just heard. She bit her lip in anxiety. There was something even more important she had to tell him.
"So Mal is dead. Cobb just lost his grip on what is real," Arthur stated.
Ariadne nodded.
He sighed and mumbled, " We have to find him then. There may still be a way to restore his sanity."
He fumbled with his die, nervously, not looking forward to what came next, though outwardly he appeared completely calm.
Cobb had endangered the whole team by doing this job with his emotions on the loose. He couldn't do the same thing.
Not to Ariadne.
So he was going to have to confess.
But before he could say anything, she whispered,
"Arthur...there's something you should know about me."
He looked into her eyes and was surprised to find a look of anxiousness in them as well. She was squeezing her small, white hands tightly, something she always did when she was nervous.
"Cobb put all of us at risk when he went under. That's why I demanded to go with you on the job. The team needed somebody who understood what he was going through."
Arthur bit his lip...in his mind. He never exhibited outward appearances of emotion. To Ariadne, he seemed the same as he'd always been. She had no idea that internally he was wrestling with himself, because his face was stone, his demeanor completely normal, and his behavior composed.
But Arthur was indeed nervous; It was as if she was reading his mind with her words about Cobb and how he'd put the team at risk.
"So," she continued uneasily, "I think I need to tell you that I'm putting you in danger as well."
Arthur blinked.
"I have someone in my past...and even though I killed him, there's no guarantee he won't show up again."
...
It was a late night in August, and Ariadne sat outside her window, smoking a cigarette. There was a roof overhang on her house, one she could climb onto, and that's where she went when she was stressed.
Or pissed.
Damn her parents. Couldn't they loosen up a bit? She was sixteen for crying out loud, and they treated her like she was four. Why the hell did they have problems with who she hung out with? Her friends were good people.
She smiled as she saw a mustang pull up to the front curb, with blaring music coming from the speakers, and her friends piled up inside. They'd been hesitant about befriending Ariadne at first; she seemed like a boring bookworm. Soon however, they came to appreciate her sincerity, her honesty, and her good sense of humor. Moreover, she made the people around her feel good about themselves; so if she liked to stay home and build architecture once in a while, or write up a story, that was chill.
Ariadne truly amazed everyone she knew with her personality and her attractive face. Everyone, that was, except her parents. She was about to call out to her friends when she heard the booming voice of her father and cringed.
"Get out of here, and don't go messing with my daughter! She's not going anywhere with you hoods!"
With that he slammed the door.
Ariadne nearly screamed in rage. Who did her father think he was?
Not going anywhere with them. She'd see about that.
In truth it was Austin Mchalain her father was worried about. The boy had a horrible reputation and was known to be loose with women, but Ariadne didn't care.
The guy was extremely hot, and more importantly...he was interested.
She hopped off the roof and tried to soothe her friends' pulsing nerves, their egos hurt by her father's remarks.
Ariadne had always believed in true love. Ever since she was small, maybe ten or eleven years old, she'd been writing stories, sometimes fanfiction, about it. She'd believed in pure, sincere things; that someday she could and would find a man with the key to her heart, a man who understood her and loved her just the way she was.
But it could get lonely often. She'd borne so many heartaches all alone, desperately wishing for that somebody who would pat her head softly, tell her he loved her, and understand. But that person never came.
Ariadne hadn't really become attractive until recently...
This new group of teens she called friends were different than her preppy private school piers. They were easy going, laughed frequently, and didn't seem to care about much.
It was a new kind of freedom for Ariadne.
She didn't realize how she was slipping farther and farther down a slippery slope.
Perhaps she was desperate, but she didn't want to sound that way. Austin didn't know her, or understand her, but she didn't seem to care much anymore. He took interest in her, and that was enough, because nobody seemed to take interest in her, and she was worried love might never come. His beautiful eyes, hair, face...they were such a catch, any girl would be jealous...so slowly she lost her vision of 'true' love and longed for him, the nearest substitute.
They arrived at the park, their favorite hangout, soon after. Some of the girls brought out beer and their guys made small talk, cigarettes lit.
She stood and stared at the moon for a moment, wondering what awaited her at home. Her father would never let her do anything again.
Before she could get lost any further in thought, she heard a voice from behind.
"Whatcha looking at, baby?"
She turned her head back slowly to look at Austin.
"Baby?"
He smiled and put his arms around her waist.
"I've been meaning to tell you for some time, now, kid...you're face is too beautiful for me to resist."
Beautiful. Somebody had actually called her beautiful.
Before she knew it, he was kissing her. Her first kiss.
Ariadne had always imagined this moment with grandeur. Her man would have just confessed his love, or vice versa, and then would gently kiss her and make her faint.
But this wasn't like that all.
The confession had been short, and this kiss was rough, almost threatening. His breath smelled horribly of alcohol.
"Austin-" she breathed, but he silenced her with his lips and slammed her against a picnic table.
"You're hurting me-" she tried, but he didn't care, and started to feel up her shirt. Her eyes widened with realization at what was happening and she tried to scream, but he wouldn't let her. Suddenly she was very afraid, and tears rolled down her eyes.
"Hey, Austin, cool it man, she doesn't want to..."
He ignored Ryan's protest. The girls began to get uncomfortable.
"Hey...c'mon, not so rough..."
"She isn't used to it-"
Suddenly there was a screeching of tires and Ariadne's father came running out, screaming.
"Get your filthy hands off my daughter!"
Before she knew it there was a gunshot.
Then sirens. And screaming.
And her father, still, on the grass.
...
Ariadne's hands were red from her wringing them by this point.
Arthur hadn't moved from the chair, and was digesting information again, but was troubled. She was very brave not to cry. The story had taken all of her strength to tell.
He could see that she wanted to speak, but didn't because she was worried she'd burst into tears. He knew because he'd been the same not too long ago.
He pondered what to say for a moment; it had been a long time since he'd comforted. He had been good at it, they'd said. But it was something that had gone with love, and all other emotion, buried deep within himself...his subconscious.
He supposed it wouldn't hurt to unearth the long forgotten skill, and said quietly to Ariadne,
"Come here."
That was all it took. That, and a small gesture of open arms.
She held him and cried, cried like she never had before, and he gently patted her back. Ariadne felt humiliated to stand before Arthur and expose herself like this, but he'd made it easy, somehow, by opening his arms to her. She'd expected him to be stiff and awkward in his comforting. He'd never shown any kind of emotion, and though that was part of his charm, she'd suspected he wouldn't understand her pain, and wouldn't be so reassuring. But his arms were firm, his voice soothing. He had put his chin over her head and was patting her hair, like a father comforting a broken hearted child, and was whispering a gentle, "Shhh...shhh..." in her ear.
Ariadne remembered her first punishment, administered by her father, and how he'd comforted her afterward and said he'd had to do it, because he loved her. Strangely, his memory didn't bring as much pain now.
How amazing that Arthur comforted her, the same way her father once had, so long ago, but even more tenderly.
She leaned back and looked into his eyes, tears still running down her own.
"I'm sorry you have to see me like this. Please don't feel sorry for me. I can stand anything but pity."
Arthur smiled sorrowfully. He wasn't sure if he could love...he needed to talk to Ariadne about that, about his past, the way she just had spoken of hers. But if he could love...if it was feasible...then this was what he loved about her.
She was so independent, so proud, that she couldn't stand to be felt sorry for. She'd been carrying her pain all alone, the guilt of what she'd done, and was very sorry for her actions.
Arthur could relate to that.
But unbeknownst to him was another thing Ariadne had hidden; the details of her encounter with Austin's projection. And her projection of himself. He'd thought about asking, but decided against it.
There was a void in Ariadne's heart, a place where only somebody she loved could fill.
But she was afraid, afraid that if she let somebody in, she'd destroy them, hurt them, shock them, the way she'd done her parents, the only people who'd ever truly loved her.
But Arthur didn't know that. Not yet.
He only knew she bore a burden she'd never unveiled, and despite how sorry she was, the past could not be reversed. And he knew what that was like.
"No, I don't feel sympathy for you, Ariadne," he said.
She didn't know how to respond to that, but he quickly added, "I feel empathy for you."
She looked at him with a question in her eyes. He sighed and said,
"You're not the only one with a rampant projection in here," and began to tell the tale he'd sworn to forget.
...
It was an early night in August. Arthur was twenty.
Once upon a time, he'd had the perfect life.
Things were going well in college, he'd met the girl of his dreams, he had wonderful, amazing friends, and he'd moved up in the world of legal extraction.
Plus, tonight was the night. The night he would ask Katy to marry him.
His blue Camaro sped off into the night, down a local road with a speed limit of 25 mph. He was going 50. He had to hurry and get Katy home, because she had a job interview in the morning, or so she said. Arthur had a feeling she'd be lingering after the events of tonight.
His heart racing, he looked to the stars and thanked God silently for his picture perfect life, as the girl he loved cuddled up beside him.
That's when the car came.
It didn't come from behind him, from his side, or the opposite direction.
It came from above.
They had been passing a parking garage, and for some unspoken reason, a car had flung off the guardrail at exactly that moment and fallen to earth.
The last thing he remembered was the EMS team pulling them out of the car, sirens blaring, and Katy on the ground.
Dead.
He woke up in the hospital a new man. His grades declined. He became increasingly simple minded. His friends drifted. And worst of all, he would have random outbreaks of crying, raging anger, and other runaway emotions that left others around him confused and upset.
His mother hired a therapist, but it didn't work. Eventually he found that the only thing that helped was a pad of paper. He had to write everything he was going to do down in it, and do it. Eventually he flunked out of school and became a janitor.
Things were rock bottom for a while. No, that's an understatement.
Sometimes he would find himself crying, all alone, after the shop he worked at closed, weeping over his broom handle.
Then Cobb came.
Arthur watched him with unsteady eyes as Cobb sipped a Coke. They talked over dinner, and Cobb said slowly,
"I heard you're one of the best point men around."
"I was," Arthur mumbled miserably.
"Well what happened?" Cobb asked.
Arthur was silent, and looked at the floor. He felt another crying fit coming on.
Cobb put his salad fork down.
"Do you remember anything about extraction?"
"Some," Arthur admitted.
"Do you remember the power of facing your own subconscious? And telling it who is master?"
Arthur furled his brow. The reason he didn't remember was because it was a new idea of Cobb's, called Inception.
Self-Inception. Going deep into your own subconscious and changing thoughts or ideas you already had into ones you wanted.
They were interrupted by the sound of clicking high heels, which approached the booth.
A beautiful, mid sized woman smiled at Cobb and kissed him on the cheek.
"Dom, Phillipa is done with her haircut. Do you mind if I take her home? I need to watch James, and I don't like this new babysitter. Oh, hello. Who are you?"
Arthur had barely managed to mutter,
"Arthur. Pleased to meet you..."
Cobb had smiled and said, "This is my wife, Mal. Go ahead, sweetheart, I'll be home in an hour or two."
She walked away, content, and Arthur put his head in between his hands. That had been all he wanted with Katherine.
Cobb placed a hand on his arm and said gently,
"Look, I heard what happened to you. And I can help you."
Three days later, they stood at the Double T Diner, his and Katy's favorite restaurant, in his dream.
She was sitting at their favorite booth, waiting.
"Go on," Cobb had muttered in his ear.
Arthur held the gun with trembling fingers. He tried to look at her, but he couldn't do it. He aimed, clicked, looked away, and fired.
But he hadn't seen her die.
Later her coffin was rolled out, a cheap pine coffin.
And they buried it. Along with his pad of paper. They buried it.
After that, Arthur was never the same, and his relatives simply stood back in awe.
He never complained, or cried, or truly raged ever again. He became stoic, utterly practical, and very quiet.
His old friends tried to return, now that he was sane, but found that things weren't like they used to be. Arthur had changed.
So slowly, over time, Cobb became his only friend.
And the tables began to turn; soon it was Arthur keeping Cobb's emotional needs in check.
...
Ariadne was suprisingly quiet. Arthur had put his head in his hands.
She had forgotten her friends from long ago, temporarily. One of the things that had really attracted those friends (with the exception of Austin) and really all the people in her life, including Cobb, was her ability to understand people and give them advice.
"It wasn't your fault, Arthur."
She instantly regretted her words. She knew that wouldn't help.
So she murmured instead,
"You never buried Katherine."
Arthur looked up slowly. Unlike Ariadne, he'd told her most of his story, including his encounter with Katy's projection and...his projection of her. With the small exception of the part where he'd whispered, "Do you love me?" in her ear.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"You buried your emotions in the coffin. You looked away when you shot her, so she never really died. I guess your emotions didn't either. You just crammed them both in a box, and tried to forget."
She walked to the window and out onto the recreated street, and mumbled, softly,
"A truth you once knew, but chose to forget."
He decided at that moment she was incredible.
And she decided at that moment she loved him.
Because he understood her. And he cared. And he was everything she had ever wanted in a man. Not some cheap substitute like Austin.
But still, there was a doubt in her mind. She couldn't tell him she loved him; if she truly loved him, she couldn't hurt him.
Arthur mumbled indistinctly, "It was the only way I could survive. To keep doing what I do. I had to forget all my emotion."
She turned around to face him.
"You needed to bury Katherine, and the past that was associated with her, because that past will never come back. But your emotions...Arthur, that's putting a lid on something that can't be contained."
He looked back at his hands. He couldn't...but he did.
A hesitant tear fell. There was no change in his facial expression. Just a tear.
"Cobb's guilt defined Mal. It's not really guilt that defines Katherine...it's a conflict. Maybe regret, that you didn't marry her. You've been forgetting what's it's like to love, to be sad...to be happy..."
She knelt down to meet his eyes and held his hand.
"And you shouldn't have to do that. Or she'll just keep coming back. Until you let it out she'll keep haunting you."
He nodded hesitantly, tears still falling.
She was suprised at the calmness in his voice when he spoke. Despite the tears, it did not shake.
"And what about you, Ariadne? What defines this Austin?"
She looked down.
"Guilt..." she lied. That was only one half of it.
"And what are you going to do about it?"
She tried to smile, and said between her own tears,
"It's done. I shot him. And now...now that I've told you...it's gone. What's done is done. And I can move on."
She meant it, and so did he. They embraced each other, deep within the recesses of limbo, and cried together, Arthur very quietly with nothing but tears, and Ariadne with vehemence and sobbing.
They would be okay. Together. They'd find Cobb.
But there was still a critical fact that they had hidden from one another.
And their subconsciouses were about to reroute to another problem; a problem they both shared but were hiding from each other.
...
(AN- Andddd I think y'all know what their problem is. *GASP* they love each other but they won't tell. Sorry it's so slow and there isn't much fluff. I've never been a good fluff writer. It comes out cheesy. This chapter was soooo OOC, sorry. The next chapter will be WAY more IC. Anyways, I just wanted to write something better than-Job is over, so happy, kissy kiss, they get married, Buenos Aires, la de da de da. That's kinda all I've been seeing and I think love should be deeper than that.
Sorry for all the similarities between Cobb's and Arthur's story. But Cobb and Arthur handled their situations much differently. Cobb kept Mal alive, while Arthur just tried to hide all emotion to get on with life.
Arthur was just so suave in the movie, all Mr. Secret Agent Man with the big gun and the pressed shirts, vests, ties, and gelled hair( that's why he was hot) that he seemed pretty emotionless. And giving him loving character is totally OOC unless you figure out some reason for him being emotionless, and then showing a vulnerable heart underneath.
There ya go, a useless explanation you cared nothing about.
Go and review people. It's how you tell me you love me.
More, um, not 'fluff,' but maybe 'love?' next chapter...the confessions, kisses, and all that bullcrap you people love...okay that I love too, so long as it isn't fake. ;D)